Take it to the Max
by queenpearl
Summary: Archerfish the subthief. Archerfish the slayer of Shinano. Archerfish the, pilot? Yes I said it right! A new kanmusu series featuring an unlikely duo. Originally from the rulesverse.
1. Archerfish Steals a Plane

Fleet submarine Archerfish giggled to herself as she approached her target. The plan had been devised by Wahoo and put into motion by Arkansas. Both said submarines were moving to their targets. This operation was a massive undertaking. 753 submarines, all fully licensed to fly a 737. 101 cities, eight countries and all the aircraft needed to be stolen at the exact same time!

Part one of the plan had been put in motion months ago, when a substantial bribe to a clueless Vanguard (girl was sold on the Iron Maiden tickets the sub girls sold her, tickets that so fortunately happened to have her seated right next to her chosen love!) got the science!girl to hack into Southwest's network and reschedule the entire fleet's itenaries so that all the planes were situated on the ground for a 5 minute span. The sub girls would have to move fast! Stealth was never a problem. Airport security had no idea they were even there. The ramp agents had no idea they were there. Admittedly there was some difficulty. Chicago and Dallas did offer a minor challenge. Some airplanes were easier to sneak up on than others. Archerfish had one of the easier ones. Being parked in the middle of the Mojave desert was an advantage in that there was limited security. The one catch, the plane she was about to steal had been mandatorally grounded for 2 months. Was it airworthy, technically not. But all shipgirls possessed an innate skill in mechanics and could fix a problem on the spot if need be.

As Archerfish climbed into the cockpit and began prepping the plane for taxi she looked across to see Tang in the plane parked next to her. In all, 34 aircraft were parked in a V-shaped formation on the desert tarmac. As one the collision lights began to flash, a red beacon on the flat desert plain. One by one the aircraft began to move, taxing in single file towards the runway. The sight of so many airplanes taking off was as amazing as it was shocking!

Archerfish ignored ATC's repeated calls to abort and instead simply said _"This is 8701Q, leading a flight of 34 for JFK." _

Seeing that his requests would not be satisfied, the controller had no choice but to allow the flight to continue. Resisting would only cause confusion and prevent traffic from being aware of this large flight. The authorities could handle the arrests when the planes got on the ground. They would have to land eventually. _"Tower copies 8701Q. You are cleared to climb to 8000 feet, turn right heading 095."_

_"095, 8000 8701Q." _After she had signed off, Archerfish leveled off and stowed the flaps. The plane handled the new configuration nicely and seemed to relax under her hand as though it was happy to be back in the air again. "You and I, we can go places." She said, swearing that she heard a purr.  
_...  
_  
This scene repeated itself across the country and slowly but surely controllers became aware of a synchronized high jacking. Inevitably, calls went out to the military who feared a massive scale attack...

It was late morning for Admiral Briggs on the east coast, but when the phone rang the Admiral found himself starting awake at his desk. An empty glass at his side. His submarines had gone missing and no one knew where they had gotten off to. Calls to San Diego and Bremerton indicated a similar problem. Briggs grumbled and answered the phone. _"Briggs." _He said out of habit.

He listened for a few seconds, then his face turned ashen then beat red within the span of a few blinks. "I understand." He said at last and hung up, hitting the buzzer on his desk.

A minute later, Hornet came in. "You called Admiral?"

"Yes, round up all the carriers and have them stationed off New York pronto!" He growled, grabbing his jacket.

"Is it the submarines sir?" She asked.

"Yes and right now, I need to get on the phone with the Pentagon to ensure my girls aren't all shot down as they fly into New York." He replied, racing past her.

Hornet paused for a few seconds, then raced after him as the implications hit her.

...

It was a typical morning at JFK airport. And by typical I mean chaotic! There were 4 A380s all wanting to taxi at once from the same ramp! There was a medical emergency as a JetBlue aircraft had a passenger who was freaking out in the back and... yeah you get the idea. For Ground Controller Stephan Abraham, better known as Kennedy Steve, the day was about to get a whole lot crazier!

"Say again 8701." The approach controller's stunned tone is what caught Stephan's attention. The man was a consummate professional, he never flinched but now when Stephan looked over, he could see the man was shaking, his face turned gray.

It was not his position to ask what the problem was. He would deal with it when the offending aircraft landed on his taxiways... "We have hijacked aircraft coming in."

Stephan paused and slowly turned to face the approach controller. "Say again?" He asked.

"Hijacked aircraft are on their way in to land. They're requesting gates and various food items."

"You say aircraft as in plural?" Stephan had been made aware of the hijacked planes out of Mojave. He had no idea just how far off base that communication was.

"Affirmative. The pilot I talked to, she said there are 753 airplanes in the pattern and the radar confirms it."

"753... did she identify herself?"

"She says her name is Archerfish and she's with the US Navy." At this Stephan groaned. He hardly considered himself a history buff but shipgirls were a common problem in large cities and New York was no exception. The epic barstormming run of the Fletchers a few months back had ensured that kanmusu would be forever notorious in town! But anyways, back to the current problem. Archerfish, Archerfish, where had he heard that name before... Stephan's facepalm later became classified as the most epic of all time as he groaned "Submarines!"

...

JFK, despite its size, could not accommodate all the 737s plus the other aircraft it had on the ground at once. 300 of the planes were diverted to Newark and Teteboro. At each airport, the submarine pilots had a Southwest official, FAA person and an MP waiting for them when they pulled up to a gate.

For her part, Archerfish just simply disembarked, giving the aircraft's nose a pat as she did so. The three officials watching swore they saw the plane tilt into it, and she walked straight to the MP and held out her hands. "USS Archerfish SS-311, Lt. Commander US Navy, service number (CENSURED). Under the Geneva Convention, that's all I'm required to tell you. I'll take handcuffs but no blindfold."

Things went crazy ivan from there!

...

_"The action of USS Archerfish and accomplices is severely condemned by the NTSB for its recklessness and for the disruption it caused to US Air Traffic Control. The NTSB recommends a heightened state of security at all US major airports and requests that the countries of Mexico, Costa Rica, Canada, Bahamas, Abuga follow this recommendation. This report will be distributed to those countries' safety boards in the hopes that they do so._

_The NTSB also recommends that the military severely punish those involved in this action and that the FAA suspend and/or revoke the licenses of all those involved in these hijackings..."~ _Excerpt from the NTSB report.


	2. True Love and a Joyride

Ensign (formally Commander) USS Archerfish half fumed, half skipped and hummed her way down the busy New York streets. In the aftermath of the Southwest Incident all the submarines had taken a severe drop in rank (Wahoo was busted down from Captain to Petty Officer) and nearly all of their paychecks were diverted to Southwest Airlines, as part of the Navy's compensation package for their girl's crazy stunt. Archerfish had barely enough savings after three months to afford a bus ticket but where she was going was worth it.

All the 737s "stolen" by the submarines in their stunt had been returned to the rightful owner and put back on their assigned routes. Except one. The plane Archerfish had taken, N8701Q, was still right where she parked it and despite the efforts of several captains and crews, remained there. Southwest was paying hundreds of dollars a day in airport fees to have this plane sit there and as much as Archerfish was sure they wanted to, they couldn't exactly put the blame on her. Yes, she had "freed" this Max from her desert prison but it was the plane that had decided to confess its undying love and loyalty to its submarine pilot on their one and only trip together.

Of course no one else knew about this which was why Archerfish had slipped away off base and was currently skipping down the New York streets to the airport. With the amount of people on a single sidewalk in the City that Never Sleeps on any given day, one would think that someone would spot the shipgirl. But Archerfish was a submarine and could be practically invisible when she wanted to be. Like now.

She was still humming to herself, she walked through the main entrance at Arrivals, making her way through security (without them seeing her) and out to the gates. She slipped past the ticket counter and down the jetbridge stairs to the tarmac where her plane was waiting. No one really knows for sure how a plane "sees". They have their sensors, their pitot tubes and their AoA indicators to feel their way through the skies. Their radar dome gave them a wide view ahead. However it was that she was spotted, once Archerfish was seen and identified, the Max literally bounced at the gate, its wheels lifting about a foot off the ground before touching again. The flaps, slats, spoilers and other control surfaces on the wings were lifting up and down and the rudder was moving back and forth wildly in a manner eerily reminiscent of a dog wagging its tail.

Archerfish put up a calming hand. "Hi sweetie, I'm back." She rested her palm on the plane's nose. There was a low humming sound, a smooth vibration like a cat's purr. "Yes I know, I know. You wanna go flying." The nose gear bounced as the plane's head bobbed up and down vigorously. "Okay, let's go!"

Archerfish quickly climbed into the cockpit, feeling the eager plane quiver under her hands. "Settle down darling." She cooed and a soft chime answered her.

Without needing any assistance, the N8701Q backed away from the gate and taxied out to the runway. In the control tower, the movement did not go unseen. _"Kennedy Ground to the Southwest jet on Oscar, can you stop and hold short of Gulf please. Advise intentions."_

_"Kennedy Ground, 8701Q holding short of Gulf as requested. We'd like to make a quick flight over the city then we'll come back." _A very familiar voice was heard across the frequency. Fellow pilots could not resist joining in. _"You again?" "How was navy prison?" "You taking your darlin' up for a quick flight?" _Archerfish giggled and she wasn't the only one. The entire plane gave a light shudder. _"I'm a proverbial bad penny." _Archerfish deadpanned and this time the shuddering was much more intense. The lights, inside and out flickered as the Max practically howled with laughter.

The controllers knew there was nothing they could do to stop Archerfish. _"Expect Runway 04L. Continue Oscar and hold short of 13R." "Oscar and short of 13R, 8701Q."  
_  
With JFK's usual traffic it took 30 minutes to make the short taxi across 13R, down Kilo and to the end of 04L. By the time Archerfish got there she could see the welcoming committee being rolled out. Well, she'd deal with them when she was on the ground again. "Let's go sweetheart." She said and throttled up. The Max leaped down the runway and without any input from Archerfish, waggled its wings cheekily as it went skywards. Reveling in showing the law enforcement its tail once again. "I am a bad influence on you." Archerfish said and the responding giggle told her how much the Max cared that she was that.

...

The Max had not taken on any fuel since it arrived in JFK and it was low then. So the flight was short, maybe 45 minutes before running close to fuel starvation and with warning lights threatening to sound, the pair touched down. By the time Archerfish pulled up to the gate it seemed like the entire New York Police Department, plus representatives from Southwest, plus her Admiral (shit!) were standing there. The Max was trembling in her hand, one engine flaming out before Archerfish could shut it down herself. "It's okay sweetie, I'll find you a hose and you can drink all the JetA you want."

She exited but found her path blocked by the Max's front landing gear. It was like she was being held and the plane would not let her go. "Sweetie, I can't stay here." A low pitched whine issued from above her. "I know, but hopefully I won't be in too much trouble. There's not much more they can do to me." Archerfish tried to move but the Max would not let her. "Come on now. The longer you keep me here, the worse my punishment will be." Which may or may not have been true, the submarine wasn't sure but either way it worked and she was free to go.

There were no handcuffs this time however there were no smiley faces either. Admiral Briggs looked particularly stern and Archerfish knew she'd be in for it when she got back to base. The Southwest representative came forward now. Archerfish recognized him as Kelly, the head honcho. They'd met before but he'd been far less nice looking then, screaming at her admiral to deliver on the Navy's "compensation package".

"Archerfish." He leveled his gaze on her.

"Sir." She returned civilly.

"Before I let these boys take you I have one question. How did you manage to get this plane in the sky when our best pilots couldn't manage it?"

"Simple." Archerfish grinned. "She loves me." Behind her, the Max bounced on all its wheels again, strobes flashing and rudder waggling a million miles a minute. There were multiple groans from the gathered folk, quite a few facepalms. Archerfish noticed Briggs had his face buried in his hands and was muttering something about "MSSB and his liquor stash." Poor man.

Kelly, to his credit, looked more than a bit off color but he didn't flinch.

"...I, can see that." The CEO cleared his throat. "Archerfish, do you think you are qualified to handle this aircraft?"

"Handled her twice already just fine didn't I?" Archerfish couldn't resist the snark but at Briggs' harsh look she quickly snapped too. "Uh, I mean yes sir!"

"Well then, I'm sure the navy can find a nice hanger for her somewhere if we, lease her to you." The bouncing from the Max was very intense this time, shaking them all.

"Calm down!" Archerfish called.

Briggs was just beginning to recover his voice. "Bu-bu- what happened to you punishing her? She _stole _one of your airplanes!"

"As I recall the Navy does its own discipline, I'll leave that to you. As for me, who am I to get in the way of true love." He nodded to where Archerfish was stroking the Max's nose, earning herself some more light flashing and control surface wiggling. "Besides," Kelly added with a sly shadow of a smirk. "The look on your face is more than enough. You'll find a bottle of southern bourbon on your desk when you get back. My compliments." He left with an added grumble of "And I need a drink myself." His attendants hurried after him, each beginning a search to quickly procure his request.

Briggs was left staring after him and looking back at Archerfish who was getting rather cuddly with her new plane. A plane he would now have to find a place to keep, preferably somewhere close to his base. Then he would need to find a harsher and more suitable punishment for its new pilot. And, there was only one thing he could say to all that. "I hate my life!"


	3. Romance, Take Flight

Archerfish silently slipped into the hanger late after dinner. She had just returned from patrol and after filling her tanks, she was keen on getting some sleep. But there was a special someone she needed to see first.

"Hi Max." It was somewhat of a cliche name but Archerfish had never found another that suited the plane. As she closed the door and turned to face the semidarkness she felt the semi-Cold nose of her lover press to her chest. "Missed me?" She grinned.

Archerfish narrowed her eyes at the bright strobe flashing. She noted how the flashes followed a pattern, like signal lamps. _"__Of- course- I - did!"  
_  
Archerfish smiled. "Soon enough, Admiral Briggs will have you converted to a P8 and you can follow me everywhere."

_"__Please!Please!Please! When?!When?!When?!" _Max bounced eagerly.

"Honey calm down." Archerfish rolled her eyes. "Your excitement is understandable but most of us are not capable of withstanding that kind of energy."

Max calmed down, a low whine sounding from her engines. Archerfish stroked her nose. "It's okay sweetie." She cooed.

Max dropped her nose, then thrust up pushing Archerfish up and over her cockpit and onto her back. With a carefully placed wingtip, Max flicked a switch and the large bay doors slid open. Max moved out onto the tarmac with Archerfish straddling the top of the fuselage just in front of the wings.

"Ah honey. I'm a ship. I'm not sure this is a good idea." Archerfish warned.

Max gave a soothing purr which was felt by her lover as a gentle shudder of the wings. She had no handholds and relied solely on her shafts for grip. Max taxied out to the runway and with a flick of her rudder in warning, through the power into her engines. Archerfish held on as best she could, her fists balled up so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Max lifted off into a cloud bank and Archerfish shivered at the cold moist air as the whispy gray clouds wreathed around her. She had only flown in clear weather and the clouds were like a band of destroyers, hunting her down...

Then, a gorgeous sight. Clear beautiful night sky! There were so many stars, more stars than Archerfish usually saw out on the overcast ocean. She dared a look below just as the clouds parted, giving her a view of the base below. It wasn't nearly as lit up as the city around it. Even with wartime regulations, a city as large as Norfolk still displayed a magnificent light show.

Despite the 200 knot headwind generated by Max's forward motion, Archerfish raised her arms and cheered. "THIS IS AMAZING!"

She was forced to hold on tight again as Max made a tight left turn out over the bay, giving her lover a perfect view of the fleet below, both shipgirls and steel hulls, before returning to the airfield.

Max pulled into her hanger with Archerfish still on her back. The submarine lay on her belly stroking Max with small circles drawn with her fingers. Max folded her gear, effectively "laying down."

When Archerfish climbed off she found herself snuggled between Max's wing and her fuselage. Once again the strobes blinked Morse at her and Archerfish needed Max to repeat her request twice because the first time was not believable.

She wanted to... with _a submarine?! _How would that even work anyways? Then again how did Kongo and Goto manage? Or Iku and Kamata? Admittedly one of them was human. But the same principles applied. One of the partners was more fragile than the other. And in this case with one being a little 300 foot long, 1500 ton submarine and the other 80000 ton airplane the status of fragile definitely fell to Archerfish.

As Archerfish settled at Max's side she pulled out a pair of earmuffs and placed them on her head. 737s had many great features that Max exemplified. They were well versed in the ins and outs of their business. As a plus the line had proven they could slip into tight spaces and drop good sized loads while multitasking from the hot and humid regions of the tropics to the colder tips of the arctic. For small airports or challenging runways the TOGA button was always useful, making a go around just when one thought they were coming in to land.

And of course when on approach those engines whined, a lot! Archerfish would need those earmuffs tonight. The rest of the base would soon get that memo.


	4. Karma vs MSSB

**Rule 11300: No more bribing submarines to do your dirty work, science!girls.  
Rule 11300a: On that note, Archerfish will need significant repairs and Max is out for blood!  
**  
This wouldn't have happened if stupidity and romance were involved. Now granted the two seemed to go hand and hand, especially with more precocious couples. Now that being said, this still could've been avoided. What is "this?" We'll get to that later. First let's explain what actually happened.

_Flashback, 3 days earlier. Submarine Base, Groton Ct. 14:00 (USN does not add 'hours' afterwords like some inferior branches)  
_  
There was the kind of quiet in the air that had everyone on edge. Because it was the type of quiet that usually preceded some form of mayhem, whether it was shipgirl induced or externally so. The 'calm before the storm' if you will. The storm turned out to arise from within which of course meant by the time the dust settled, the Admirals would be several shots if not more into their liquor stash.

The storm ironically enough came from a submarine not normally associated with trouble. All in all, Seawolf was usually a very well behaved girl. Don't get her confused with her sodium fueledor her trigger happy counterparts. And the less said about the floating coffin the better. Now that being said she was still a submarine, a nuc boat at that and although there were often doubts that she was related to the manically stealthy and, the more we think about it, creepy USS Jimmy Carter, there were those moments. This was one of them. Seawolf had a little known habit of taking any opportunity she could find to prove her stealthiness was just as good as her more clandestine sister. This was one of those rare opportunities.

Presented to her by, of all people, the Yurribi twins, Seawolf's task was to slip into Groton unnoticed, then slip into one of the airplane hangers and film Max and Archerfish "in action". The twins wanted to know a. how such a coupling actually was done and b. if said coupling would result in any children. Although Seawolf felt the latter could just be discovered upon Archerfish developing unusual cravings. Still, it wasn't her place to question anything. Her job was to simply have a periscope up and ready for when Archerfish felt like it was a good night to put on a show.

That night surprisingly took a while in developing. Archerfish had been on base for a while, her last patrol ending some time ago. This meant that the frenzied coupling that usually occurred immediately after a patrol had calmed down. But Seawolf just had to be patient. She knew that Archerfish was due to go back out soon and her intense studies of romantic relationships told her that another coupling was very likely to occur around that time.

It came sooner than she expected. Max, having spent two days cooped up in her hanger having her fuel system looked at, the navy wanted to add mid-air refueling to her, well as any grounded aircraft would, she was feeling frisky. Archerfish, due on patrol within the next week, was also keen. Thus Seawolf sat outside, well hidden in tall brush as she waited for Archerfish to go inside. Once the submarine had closed the pedestrian door, and the main hanger doors were also closed, the nucboat made her move. She used a thick tree limb to plant herself on the roof and her periscopes peeked in through a skylight.

The camera recorded some rather juicy delights that she was sure would make for excellent blackmail once she made copies. Like hell she was just turning this footage over to the Yurrabis. They were paying her good. Six months worth of free coupons to spend anywhere in Akhibura. But she had to film the whole thing first. The twins had insisted upon it and while they claimed it was for science! as all science!shipgirls claimed, Seawolf was certainly suspicious that there weren't _other _motives. She could certainly see the appeal. About halfway through, she found she needed to open her hatches and ventilate.

Of course right before the climax is where the bane of MSSB, a force known as karma, intervened. When you secretly film the porn of another shipgirl, be prepared to recieve a heavy dose. In this case, it was a sudden but powerful gust of wind through the open skylights. Courtesy of Max's all but screaming engines. Seawolf lost her balance and with a very audible yelp, slid off the roof and fell right into a stack of barrels labeled gunpowder. Her still exposed periscopes scraped along the metal edge of the building, showering the barrels with sparks.

The submarine gulped, currently less afraid of the odd couple now glaring daggers at her through the hanger door. "Oh scrap me." She moaned, staggering to her feet. Her propeller churned to make headway as her engine room rang for full power. But even Shimakaze can't beat the laws of physics and motion.

KABOOM!

One side of the hanger just exploded into bits. The rest quickly caught on fire. Seawolf was thrown over the trees and landed awkwardly in the river by the blast, bits of hull coming to the surface where she landed. Not a good sign. It was worse for Archerfish and Max.

Max sensed the explosion was coming around the same time Seawolf did and threw herself over Archerfish who gave a squawk of protest. The 737 was careful to keep the majority of her weight off the sub. She had her breaks set but even so one of the disks broke with the sheer effort of keeping herself immobile against the blast. The heat of the subsequent blaze warped her dark blue paint. Beneath the skin, hydraulic fluid boiled in its lines, bursting out in some places. Manual pulley cables took up the strain. Archerfish took a peak out from underneath her lovers landing gear but Max shoved her back down.

"Max honey, we need to move out of here." She coughed, the thick smoke beginning to clog her engine intake filters. But Max couldn't move. The blast had jammed the breaks on her right main gear, effectively locking her in place. Archerfish knew what she had to do. "I am so sorry about this sweetheart." She said as she severed the break lines on that side. Max offered nothing more than a wince as she and Archerfish limped outside. Archerfish was missing one of her stern planes and had to rely on Max for clear sailing. Besides the warped paint and the broken break disk, Max herself was okay.

The fire crews cheered at their appearance. Even Admiral Briggs praised their miraculous escape. But once the fire was out, attentions turned to finding the culprit. It didn't take long.

_Present Day, Admiral's Office Submarine Base Groton Ct. 09:00  
_  
Seawolf took one look at the Admiral's face as she walked in and immediately raised the white flag up her tallest periscope. "I surrender!" She squealed.

"I thought you might say that. Unfortunately, I am not the one you will be surrendering too." A dark shadow descended upon the office and when Seawolf dared look to see who it was she immediately wished she didn't.

There was Max, paint still warped but those glass cockpit windows were fixated right on her. How did a plane manage such a terrifying glare? For some reason Seawolf got a picture in her mind of a terrifying lady rubbing her hands together with glee right before delivering punishment. Self preservation kicked in and she flew nothing but white flags from her periscopes. "Um, truce?" She tried, holding out her camera's memory card in one hand. If Seawolf was hoping that by turning over the evidence, Max would cut her some slack, she was about to be disappointed.


	5. Max's First Battle

**11320: I don't know what your definition of upgrade is but putting Aegis on a plane?! Also the less said about the giant ass guns on the wings, the better.  
11320a: "This is worse than the time the twins gave Gatling, Gatling guns."- Admiral Goto  
11320b: "And worse than the time SoDac gave Tennyru an axe!"~ Admiral Briggs  
11320c: "Here Abyssal-byssals. Come out, come out wherever you are~" Max**

**11321: No hiding details from your reports, even if it is for good reason.  
11321a: "I really don't know how to put this in a way that won't shatter the Admiral's sanity."~ Massachusetts  
11321b: "I don't know how we can not put it in our reports and keep our sanity."~ Archerfish  
11321c: "WHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! WHHYYYYYYYYYYY MEEEEEEEEEE!"~ Admiral Briggs, learning the truth**

**11322: Max has earned a Silver Star for single handedly knocking off an entire squadron of Abyssals. She is also spending the next 2 months in her hanger for repairs.  
11332a: "That was the bravest and the stupidest stunt I've seen since Hood did that cudgel move with Campbelltown."~ Archerfish.  
11322b: "Who, besides you knows how to ride a plane? And has big guns."~ Max **

It was a normal day at Norfolk Naval Air Station. After the Seawolf Incident Max and Archerfish moved to Virginia. The base was a good deal larger than Groton and although the submarine presence was nearly non-existent, surface ships provided plenty of entertainment. Also, the facilities here meant that Max could finally get the upgrades she so desperately needed in order to join the fleet. The opportunity to work with and fight alongside her lover had her very excited and she was almost always fidgeting on her gear in her hanger as the mechanics swarmed over her.

What wasn't known was the intrusion of science! into these modifications. Converting a 737 Max into a P8 wasn't as difficult as it may seem at first glance. The basic airframe was the same. And while the passenger based interior needed to be removed and new electronics and weapons systems installed, once the seats and cushions were out of the way it wasn't that difficult. What was tricky was South Dakota's plan.

Now South Dakota, the mad science shipgirl of mad science shipgirls had been responsible for some kind of mayhem on every base in the US and Canada, at least once. She, like all the other science girls were fascinated with Max. The first aircraft to show signs of true sentience like the kanmusu. Being stationed in Norfolk meant that a confrontation was inevitable. Thus, with the mechanics on lunch break and Archerfish off doing submarine things, South Dakota confronted her latest test subject.

Max was unlike most other test subjects. See she was well aware of the science girl's penchant for trouble. Oftentimes her experiments didn't go as planned so when South Dakota made her proposal, the 737 was rightfully wary. Then the battleship made a proposal she couldn't refuse.

"You want to be able to protect Archerfish don't you?" She asked.

Now what kind of question was that? _Of course _Max wanted to protect her. But her numerous weapons systems already ensured that. South Dakota smiled and shook her head when she pointed that out. "Max, poor dear innocent Max." She chuckled. "Harpoons and torpedoes are wonderful but has anyone told you of the early days of the war?" Max paused, then shook her nose in a no answer. South Dakota was happy to fill the gaps in her education. "Well the first few months we were, reeling. I dunno how much of the war reached the airways but the Navy took a huge hit. Nothing we had seemed to work. _Nothing! _Those nice anti-ship harpoons, they either ended their journey as duds or went on a return to sender path. And same with the torpedoes. It was like the Mark 14 all over again!" Max winced at that, aware of the torpedo's flaws as Archerfish had given her a history lesson.

"So the only weapon that proved to be even remotely reliable were phoelinx guns. Since you're a plane and not a ship, I honestly don't know if those other weapons will work on Abyssals or not. But its better to have a backup, just in case. Archerfish would never forgive me if I let you get shot down." That was certainly true and as often as Max put herself in directly in the fire for her lover, dying was certainly not on her calendar for the near future. She agreed to SoDac's modifications.

...

Abyssal Force 2 was stubborn and composed of a highly skilled fighting force. Highly skilled because of the Abyssal forces on earth, this was the only one that was entirely composed of original vessels. This meant that these evil ships had been fighting the war since the beginning. They were experts in dealing with human forces and shipgirls alike. The war had taken its toll on the force, reducing it to about half its original size which is why the US Fleet now took this opportunity to attack it. They were strong enough, and it was weak enough for the fight to be reasonably fair. That is not to say it would easy by any means.

With the opening shot it was clear this would be a long hard battle. The Abyssal force knew where to hit where it hurt and concentrated its attacks on the carriers and capital ships. But without avoiding the little guys entirely. The destroyers and submarines got their fair share of the action. Archerfish was pinned down for 6 hours by continuous depth charges. Max was one of three P8s that saw action that day. Having three meant there was a constant presence as each aircraft cycled through either to land and replace tired crew or hook up to a gas station. Max never left the battle entirely. Even hooked up to a tanker she made loops on the edge of the battle zone, keeping one sonarbouy fixed on Archerfish.

Archerfish for her part was having the time of her life! The Abyssal submarines were a challenge as she liked a challenge, as long as she could come out on top in the end. Which so far she had. But now her battery was running low. She needed to snorkel but the constant activity at the surface made that impossible. Retreating out of the battlezone wasn't an option either as the enemy destroyers were waiting for her the moment she tried to retreat.

"Can't go forward, can't go back." She sighed. Well she couldn't stay here! She made a break for her own lines. A risky maneuver as she could easily be mistaken for an enemy submarine. Friendly fire still happened in this war, it just wasn't as well known. But she had no choice. The Abyssals had made it for her.

As Archerfish raced back to the fleet, the sound of her screw attracted the Abyssals. She was desperate and making little effort to be silent, just hoping that she could reach the safety of her fleet in time. Daring a peak with her periscope, it was clear she wasn't going to make it. Two destroyers were charging at her. Archerfish made a decision. She kept her periscope up, guiding the destroyers in. They didn't come right away, naturally wary as they had seen this tactic before. But the chance of sinking a vulnerable submarine was too good to pass up as Archerfish knew it would be. She had her shot lined up when the lead destroyer got close enough. Her hours of practicing this down the throat maneuver payed off and she took pleasure in seeing the bow blown off her opponent.

Rapid sonar pings reminded her there was one more destroyer out there. By the time she had re-positioned, the destroyer was too close. She could dive to evade but her battery was so low by this point that doing so would almost guarantee she could not make it back to the surface. She had to take her chances here, shift her rudder at the last moment and hope she was nimble enough to dodge.

30,000 feet above her, Max circled on the end of a long hose. Her fueling was almost complete and good thing too because through the heavy cloud cover she spotted Archerfish. Going bow to bow with two Abyssal destroyers. They looked like Gearing-class, evil versions of them. Which meant that Archerfish was not only outnumbered, she was severely outgunned. Max wanted to race down there and help but she couldn't. Not properly disengaging from the tanker before resuming battle operations would damage them both, if not crash them.

Max cheered when she saw the one destroyer go up in flames, knowing Archerfish had nailed it but there was still another. Not that Max had ever underestimated or disrespected her lover's skill in combat. Archerfish was quite good where it counted but even she couldn't take care of two ships at once. Especially not at such close range. And that remaining destroyer knew it. It knew Archerfish couldn't set up another shot in time and Max, even from this height, could see the wake it generated as its engines were pushed to full power. It was going to ram her. Max snarled, pinging the tanker in an effort to let them know she needed to get back in the fight.

_"We're pumping as fast as we can Max. Still another 2 minutes."_

_"Archerfish doesn't HAVE two minutes." _Still Max could do nothing.

Finally, fueling was complete and the tanker's boom retracted. Max closed the fuel panel door across her nose and banked hard left, pointing her radar dome skywards. It was far from standard procedure but she was needed down there dammit. Max retracted all her flaps which she had extended to allow her to circle at low speed behind the tanker. But now they would just hinder her.

Climbing seemed to be the opposite of what was needed to rejoin the battle but there was a method to Max's madness. One that admittedly, was more than a little crazy. She tilted her nose high. 10 degrees, 20 degrees, 30 degrees... She reached an astonishing 52 degrees before automatic protection kicked in and began to push her nose back towards the ground. Here was where the plan became a little, well, stupid. Just diving towards the battle wasn't going to work. Safeguards prevented her from achieving the necessary speed and dive angle required to rejoin the fight fast. Instead of working against her systems, she would work with them. With a twist.

As soon as Max felt her horizontal stabilizer begin to push her nose down she froze her AoA sensors so that the only thing they would read was that her nose was at a 50 degree up angle. This was not something a flight crew could ever do, even if they ever wanted to (why would they?) But she was the plane! She could do what she wanted with her parts. MCAS did exactly what it was designed to do and pushed her down. It wasn't much at first but when the now frozen sensors detected no change, the commands were repeated and strengthened. Max did everything she could to help, pushing full power into her engines. With the flight systems fooled, there were no safeguards to act against her in how steep an angle she took. There was a risk she would just end up crashing into the sea. This system had knocked down two planes already but without the advantage of actually being a dive bomber, Max had to take what she could get. Sure, she would probably end up losing a few bits on the way down. Diving towards the sea at 250 knots and 60 degrees ensured that. She just needed to make sure she reactivated her AoA sensors and pulled up in time.

Once in the dive, the wind was unlike anything Max had felt before. It was a high pitched whistle, almost like a scream. As she cleared the cloud base at 5000 feet the surface ships realized the danger and opened up on her. Tracers streaked past as bullets flew just centimeters from her wings but Max was not terrified. If anything, the closeness was something she reveled in. Battle was where she belonged! She may not have been bred to fight but she was certainly born for war.

3000 feet, 2500 feet. At this altitude most aircraft would pull up and release a bomb or two on an unsuspecting ship's deck. Max didn't have bombs, she had harpoons and the only way to ensure the modern weapons worked in this environment was to get in close. At 1000 feet, she reactivated her sensors. MCAS stopped functioning and a thousand warnings began blaring in her cockpit as the rest of her realized the danger she was in. Most annoying was the ground proximity warning. If it was allowed, she would have shut off that loud "TERRAIN! TERRAIN!" A long time ago. As it was, she just had to ignore it and keep her focus. As she began to pull out of her dive, her belly just brushed the mast of the destroyer. She released a harpoon, then once clear of the ship and practically skimming the water, banked hard right to avoid the fire of a large cruiser in her path. She didn't see it but she heard the destroyer's magazines explode.

_"Yes it worked!" _She hissed. But the fight wasn't over yet. Now down on the deck, Max dodged fire from all angles, both from Abyssals and her own comrades. She was right in the middle of the worst part of the fighting, and it was inevitable that she would get hit. She did.

Just a few rounds wasn't enough to hurt her but after 3 minutes in the thick of it, something was going to give. Rounds finally penetrated her fuselage, just aft of her right wing. The high speed bullets went deep, severing her manual control cables. If her hydraulics were hit next, she would have no control to that side. She couldn't climb to escape. They'd pick her off with plenty of time before she vanished into the clouds. But neither could she run. Like Archerfish, she was stuck.

Or maybe not. The mounts on her wings, just outside of her engines were to the casual observer, just another set of flaps. SoDac had designed them that way to avoid suspicion. Max had yet to even test the new weapons let alone deploy them in combat. _"Well, no time like the present." _She muttered. Inside the cockpit a switch was flicked, a switch labeled "Phoelinx". The seemingly inconspicuous flap cover retracted and splayed out, revealing four nasty gun barrels on each wing. Max wasted no time putting them to good use. The ammo belt ran along the inside of her wing, giving her up to 5000 rounds to each barrel. It was complex system but its application was simple and deadly.

From the perspective of her allies down below, it looked like Max had exploded. Tracer rounds erupted from both wings and spontaneously one of the thinner hulled Abyssal destroyers exploded. Max used the gap in enemy fire to gain some altitude and continued her strafing runs, lending support to beleaguered and ammo deprived battleships. Against stronger vessels, harpoons and torpedoes came into play. And Max was a _very good _shot! Despite some of the Abyssals practically being entangled with the Americans. In such close quarters, Max never faltered, not once striking her allies.

With the lesser ships out of the way, Max made a move towards the Abyssal carrier. Their ammunition nearly depleted, the US fleet could only take a step back and watch. The carrier was a cross between a Yorktown and a Nimitz. The combination of WW2 toughness and modern deadliness made this ship a hard egg to crack. Not that Max cared. The storm of tracers was far more intense now and that was just from one ship. The only ship left in the Abyssal squadron. Max stayed as close to the deck as she could without getting wet and spun herself around and around in a twirl. The move prevented the Abyssal from getting a good fix on her, unable to see any one part of her at a time. Once Max was inside the range of her guns, it was all over. Her own guns had been firing continuously as well, knocking out the Abyssals anti-aircrafts one by one. By the time Max lifted herself off the deck, dropping torpedoes, the tracer fire was almost nonexistent.

Max's timing could not have been closer as just as she cleared the carrier, it exploded. Two torpedoes detonated under its keel, snapping its back in several places. It quickly sank, leaving an oil slick behind. Max made a circle, admiring her handiwork before limping back towards the fleet. Keen eyes could see that her right engine was smoking a little and would have to be shut down. She was covered in bullet holes and tracer burns and there was a large gash in her belly from where she'd scrapped against that destroyer's mast.

Massachusetts wasted no time getting on the radio. _"Max, return to Norfolk."_

_"Max copies." _With a waggle of her wings, Max made a sharp turn back towards the US coast, 200 miles away. It was unclear if she could get there without needing to stop at another gas station. Flying on one engine reduced her speed drastically, and limited her altitude causing increased fuel burn. Still, there were more pressing issues to consider.

Most of the fleet had been silent, purely out of sheer shock and terror. At last someone spoke up and no surprise it was Johnston. "An entire fleet." She whispered. The Taffy was unusually subdued but that was no surprise, considering what just happened. "One aircraft destroyed an entire fleet. Not that I'm surprised or anything. Aircraft are nasty buggers but a P8M*. She's not even built for combat!" The destroyer was torn between worshipping Max or being jealous of her. Massachusetts wasn't sure which one she preferred.

"So, how do we report this?" South Dakota asked. She was the only one not completely affected by Max's trouncing.

"Ignoring the fact that you so obviously gave Max those guns." Massachusetts said and SoDac just gave a shrug that had no guilt in it whatsoever. "I vote in favor of _not _reporting this, for the sake of Admiral Briggs' continuing sanity."

Archerfish was the next to speak up. She too was stunned by her lover's display. Who knew a 737Max, an aircraft designed purely for civilian work, could do that kind of damage. "I don't know how we can not report it and keep _our _sanity." She said.

...

Admiral Briggs was not happy. On his desk sat a serious of after action reports drawn up by Massachusetts and her fleet. While deeply informative they failed to answer one critical question. What had happened to the Abyssal Force 9? When asked, each ship simply shrugged and said "It was a hell of a fight but it wasn't me who finished them." At least the force had been annihilated. Still, the question of how remained. Was it extremely important? Not really. The force was gone and that's what mattered. But when dealing with shipgirls, it was best to try and understand MSSB as much as possible in order to better predict its outbreaks. A science that was, admittedly, still very much in its infancy.

Playing on a hunch, Briggs went through the folder of photos again. Collected from all the vessels snapshots of the fight, they provided a visual picture of the battle itself. And something immediately caught his eye. In each of the photos depicting an Abyssal blowing up, there was a small blob off to the side. In some images the blob was more defined. Briggs could just make out the features of a P8. And he had a sinking feeling that he knew which one it was. And that lead to a very unwelcome truth.

"WWWHHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY MMMMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Admiral Briggs' wail was heard all across the base. In the mess hall, Massachusetts, Archerfish, Johnston, and South Dakota were all seated at a table. Pausing in slurping her spaghetti, SoDac shrugged and said "Whelp, guess he found out."


	6. Battleships and a Very Close Call

**11695: Max is to be reminded for the upteenth time that excessive use of force is not authorized! And firing your 102s until an entire Abyssal fleet's magazines go off just because you can counts as excessive use of force!  
11695a: Taffy 3 is not to encourage Max shooting just because it "looks awesome"!**

**11696: Max, yes you are awesome! Yes you are the epitome of badassary for planes. Yes you are still not a kanmusu and as such you need to excercise some caution!  
11696a: "Eight hour's in the drink? It's a wonder she's still alive!"~ Vestal  
11696b: *worried whimpers*~ Archerfish  
11696c: *Pained groans and soothing noises*~ Max**

**11697: 6 months in the hanger and that's with the mechanics working around the clock to fix you! Let that be a lesson to you Max. ****_Do not _****go charging a fucking Montana-class abyssal on your own. Especially not when it's being supported by a squadron of H-classes! **

It was supposed to be just a routine patrol. Note the words "Supposed to be". As if anything would ever go according to plan when Sparkly Magical Shipgirl Bullshit was involved. Sure, Max was not a shipgirl but she was in love with one and had associated herself with them long enough for the magic to rub off on her she liked to think. At least that's what other pilots said. She was the only aircraft to show signs of "life". So people thought anyways. Max knew her fellow P8s were alive, they just chose not to show it like she did. But she also knew they were considering it. Max thought it would be funny if they one day chose to take control themselves. A good Halloween trick anyways.

Max took off from Runway 5 at Norfolk, turning right after departure as she headed out to sea. She joined up with another 3 P8s out of Jacksonville, part of VP16. Max was a one plane show, not belonging to any squadron but she happily joined the formation, noting with some glee that the aircraft next to her waggled its wings slightly under its own doing. Its pilot cheerfully came over the radio. _"Good morning Max. Ready to do some hunting?" _Max wished she could speak like a person could. There were so many words! So much variety in speech. All she had was the automated system that Boeing had installed. Usually used only for alerting the crew or making brief announcements to passengers, she used it now to communicate with the other aircraft and crews in her formation. _"Good morning. Yes I am." _The bland female voice was devoid of the excitement she felt, at least she was convinced she felt. She had no heart to cause an increased heart rate. Not blood to pump faster around her body. But her flaps quivered as she retracted them. Her rudder shivered and she wiggled in her flight path.

Lt. Jack "Fishbone" Angler (Long story, don't ask) of the nearest P8, number 764 chuckled as he observed the aircraft off his left wing. Max was well known amongst the Navy flying community for her Top Gun worthy flying skills as well as her shipgirl like antics. Her battle against Abyssal Task Force 9 was legendary! Her old Southwest livery had been replaced with Navy gray. She bore her registration on her nose like the other P8s in the flight did, 8701 in bold black letters. Her radar dome was painted black. Unlike the others she lacked any squadron markings. Instead, a pair of gold dolphins were painted on either side of her nose, just below the cockpit windows. Those fish were Max's proudest feature, a tribute to her lover and a mark of her current assignment as the lone plane in SUBDESRON 12 out of New London CT. Along her flanks were a pair of bulges that hid torpedoes. On her wings, outboard of her engines were harpoon missiles, 12 in all. Inboard of her engines, almost hidden in the wing roots were gun barrels. Massive ones. These had been installed to replace the phoelinx. Usually designed for tanks, Science! had permitted that Max could carry a pair of 102s. The damage she could do with those! The thought of sharpshooting Max wielding a pair of 102s coupled with her new Aegis systems on unsuspecting Abyssals made Angler quiver with glee and Max eager to test her new weapons. Neither would have to wait long.

Less than an hour into the patrol, the lead P8s radar began to light up with contacts but they didn't need any visual confirmation that they were Abyssals. The chill that worked its way across Max's wings was more than enough. For some reason, the 738M could sense the evil ships in the same way a shipgirl could. The clouds beneath them parted to reveal a massive fleet lead by a Montana-class battleship. And she was not alone. 3 H-classes hugged her flanks along with an assortment of cruisers and destroyers. "That's a lot of guns." whistled Angler. _"But no air cover." _Max's automated or "Alexa" voice as the pilots liked calling it. They flew over and circled back for another look and sure enough, no carriers were present. "That's still a lot of guns Max." Angler said, knowing what the trigger happy plane was thinking. _"You've got Neo warheads right?" _She asked, speaking of a brand new addition to the weapons the Poseidon's carried on their Harpoons. The Neo warhead was unaffected by the field Abyssals put off and thus allowed the more modern remains of the Navy to fight in a war they previously had witnessed from the sidelines. The problem was, the weapons were so new that only a handful were in existence. Not nearly enough to take out a whole fleet. "We have two each, but this fleet is full of tough bitches. More than tough enough to take whatever we have in our arsonal." _"I'm aware of that. Just cover me." _"Understood." Angler knew he couldn't argue with Max.

Max had made a few modifications to her systems since her last flight and instead of having to climb, she rolled over in a dive like a WW2 bomber. Her wings were reinforced to take the increased loads and she gained speed rapidly. She dove straight down on the Montana-class. She lacked the Neo warheads that her fellow P8s had and was forced to launch her weapons at low altitude. At 2000 feet she prepared to deploy. It took seconds for her pass 1000 feet. She launched the harpoon from her left side. It streaked down, slamming into the Montana. The other ships in the fleet opened up with their guns as she pulled up, forcing her to stay on the deck. From above, more harpoons streaked down from the other three P8s hidden in the clouds. They took down one H-class. Max took pleasure in seeing her magazine explode. She banked hard left, her wingtip just feet from the swells as she lined up another shot. She fired off three harpoons in a series. The weapons flew low as they were designed before shooting up and slamming into the Montana's decks. Her thick armor held and Max stifled a curse when fire from the destroyers started hitting her. Bullets struck the fan blades on her right engine and it started to surge. Max shut it down quickly to prevent further damage. Now running on just one engine, she weaved her way around the remaining two H-classes trying to find a way out. Despite the risks she often took, she wasn't suicidal. But this task force wasn't about to let her go. Heavy antiaircraft fire from the destroyer screen blocked her path. After four tries Max was running out of options. Taking near continuous fire, she had lost hydraulics on her right side. Her left wing was punctured and leaking fuel. It was fortunate she had launched all her missiles on that side before those bullets struck. _"If I can't escape, I may as well go down fighting!" _She thought and lining up a shot, she launched the last two harpoons she had straight at the Montana.

From 20,000 feet, Angler cheered as he saw the large battleship explode. But Max was still trapped. He'd radioed for help but it would take another few hours before Massachusetts could arrive. An hour Max didn't have. Her fuel leak had become critical and she had to be careful in how she presented herself to the enemy, exposing only her right flank. A direct hit on that stream of JetA could cause a massive fireball. Down to torpedoes and a few rounds for her 102s, Max launched a salvo into one of the H-classes. The weapons remained finicky despite her efforts to protect them from the abyssal's field. One torpedo broached, another swam off towards Europe and another struck without detonating. Only one exploded and it took out the H-class' rudder. _"Something I can work with." _Max thought. She circled back around, climbing steeply to present a smaller target before diving back down. Once again she launched a salvo of torpedoes. Two more struck in close succession but did little damage. The Mark 48s the Navy was so proud of were as useless as the Mark 13. The ability to detonate underneath the ship was the weapons' Achilles heel. They always struck the hull, if they struck at all. The warhead's strength ensured the H-class suffered some flooding and Max resolved to use what she had left to sink it. A slow, vulnerable target with its rudder sheered off, it was easy pickings. Easy being relative of course. There were still quite a few friends there. Those friends now opened up with everything they had against her. Despite her impressive flying skills, Max could only avoid their strikes for so long.

A pair of 5 inch shells went off directly underneath her, shrapnel penetrating her belly and severing her manual control cables. Her only source of control. The pain was unbearable. With a harsh cry, Max's nose lifted and her left engine screamed as it tried to lift her bulk out of the fight. As she gained altitude the flak got worse and worse and worse. The other P8s circling above tried to help. Of their own accords they launched salvo after salvo of harpoons and torpedoes even though there was no chance they'd get a hit. Maybe they could distract the Abyssals long enough for Max to escape. It nearly worked. Max had just passed 3500 feet when a lucky shot from one of the ships below struck her remaining working engine. It practically exploded! Max screamed, nothing automated about it. She literally screamed. "No..." Angler could only watch in horror as the famed 737 nosed down towards the sea. Without control, a rough landing was inevitable. Max practically dove into the swells, leveling off at the last second due to the lift generated over her wings. It was still a very hard landing. Once the spray settled there was some relief at seeing her floating on the surface but no one knew for how long she'd stay there. Planes were not designed to float. They were not boats. The Abyssal fleet steamed off, avoiding Massachusetts fleet with a course change to the south. The US Navy tore after them and requested the remaining P8s fly ahead and keep tabs on the enemy. Except none of the P8s did. Despite the efforts of their crews to turn them around, all three stayed where they were. In formation circling above Max. Every once in a while, one would dive down to a scant 1000 feet and overfly Max seemingly to check on her, wave its wings then return to the group. Max was struggling just to keep her head above water. She'd thrown the ditching switch before she impacted but was still flooding nonetheless. Her bullet ridden wings were rapidly filling with water. Never mind that, the pain she was in was unbearable and the biting cold of the ocean made it worse. Max was still confused as to how she could feel all that but she could.

At one point she lost consciousness. She must have because she dreamed of Archerfish. Her lover was calling to her, whispering soothing words. Everything felt warm, pleasant almost. Max felt like she could just lay down and collapse into that warmth... then a tug. A harsh tug and pain! The pain brought her back and she realized she was moving, being lifted out of the water. Harsh straps dug into her skin and her wounds. Out of the water and now exposed to air she started shivering. She was carried 50 miles to Norfolk by a rescue ship, then lifted by crane onto the pier. Max had used her emergency systems to blow her landing gear down but the instant she touched the tarmac, her gear gave way and she collapsed hard on her wounded belly. She was too tired to cry out and instead a low pitiful groan escaped her. Her radar alerted her to a pair of people standing over her and one was very familiar. Seeing her mate gave Max some relief and she relaxed a little.

Archerfish was stunned at seeing how badly Max was hurt. Her entire body was covered with bullet holes and tracer burns. Her wings were so perforated it was a wonder they were still intact. Her left engine had lost its cowling and the melted remains dangled off her wing. Her right engine was nothing more than a pile of burned junk. Her tailfin was mostly shot away. It had been shot up early in the fight. It was remarkable she could still control her flying despite that injury. These injuries, coupled with her long stay in the water, left Max in critical condition. "8 hours in the drink, it's a wonder she's still alive." whispered Vestal as she got to work. South Dakota joined her. As the shipgirl responsible for a large number of Max's modifications, she had the most knowledge of how the former 737-8 worked. Max was silent as they worked, shutting down her radar as she slowly warmed. Once almost completely numb from her immersion, Max's senses slowly returned as did the pain. It was so fierce she was trembling constantly. Archerfish soothed her as best she could, holding her nose and stroking her head. Without her radar, Max was blind but she could feel Archerfish's hands and their touch helped relax her. Her trembling eased.

After a couple of hours, Max had regained enough strength to find her wheels and limp into her hanger. Technitions started work on her right away. Archerfish never left her side, stroking her nose continuously. "You were so brave." She whispered, her eyes dark as her gaze traveled across Max's badly mawled frame. No aircraft in history had ever returned from battle this severely damaged. Max let out a soft groan that was meant to be a purr but the pain prevented her from giving it correctly. A low rumble rocked her body and she nuzzled Archerfish who got the message. The submarine took Max's nose in her hands and kissed it. "My beautiful, wonderful, brave Max. Don't ever do that again. How could I ever find another as wonderful and precious as you? You are irreplaceable."


	7. SMSB, The Bane of Admiral Briggs

**11813: We offer our most deepest condolences to the families of the five MSSB Response Team members who now reside in a mental asylum after a routine checkup determined that Archerfish is pregnant!  
11813a: "How is this possible? How?!"~ Archerfish  
11813b: *incomprehensible muttering noises*~ doctors  
11813c: *sobbing* "Why didn't I just retire?"~ Admiral Briggs  
11813d: *Happy giggles and coos as she cuddles Archerfish*~ Max **

Whenever Constellation was summoned to Admiral Briggs's office it usually meant something SMSB related had happened and the Admiral needed her to run interference with the press. And as with all admirals, when an "event" occurred, they often went a little berserk. Having seen everything from crying to rants to pleas to be demoted and kicked out to "beastmode-I'm gonna set fire to this hellhole of a base", Constellation thought she'd seen everything. She was wrong.

Walking in after delivering a polite knock that she knew would go unanswered by the occupant inside, Constellation came upon Rear Admiral Upper Half Jeffery Briggs, (SW/AW) USN curled up on the floor in front of his desk with at least three bottles of the strong wine variety and he was nursing each one in turn. All admirals turned to the bottle whenever shipgirls were involved but Briggs had a peculiar way of doing it. He chose his bottles carefully, and somehow they always related to the shipgirl that had caused them. So Constellation took a closer look at the labels. A bottle of Columbia Crest Cabernet Sauvignon, a decent wine part of the Chateau Ste Michelle of Woodinville Washington. That must have been his starter and she winced. This was a big one if he had a bottle of wine to begin his day with! A bottle of Washington wine at that which was more acidic and carried a higher alcohol content than most Napa Valley wines. He followed that down with a couple of beer chasers, a entire 12 pack of them! She recognized the label, Kingpen.

_"Where did you get these from?" _She wondered.

Kingpen was a good beer, one of Bridgeport's better flavors she thought and it was a pity they stopped brewing it. He must have been saving these. Thus far the theme of Briggs' alcohol choices seemed to indicate a problem on the west coast. Then she looked at the last two bottles. They were also Chateau Ste Michelle's, a Merlot and a Chardonnay. The strong Washington state influence left Constellation thinking. If something this major had occurred on the west coast she would've heard about it by now. So it had to be a shipgirl who was somehow related to the west coast.

_"That narrows things down a lot." _Constellation thought sarcastically.

Plenty of ships had been built at Mare Island during the war, especially submarines. But she had just taken muster an hour ago and all subs were present and accounted for, nor had she seen any sign that the sneaky boats had been up to anything unusual. Well, no more than they usually were anyway. So that ruled the subs out. What about the cruisers? Again Constellation had her doubts. Those big girls were not very good at being stealthy about their shenanigans which was why it was rare for anything noteworthy to get out about them. Any dumb stuff they attempted was nipped in the bud. So that ruled the cruisers out as well and the destroyers were all passed out in their rooms after crashing from a sugar rush the night before. Constellation had to think for a moment, if it wasn't one of the shipgirls then who...

"Oh no!" She groaned.

All secretary shipgirls knew of Max. The 737 was notorious for the Sparkly Magical Shipgirl Bullshit she brought with her. And the level of it was crazy. Every time that plane went out on patrol something happened. But Max wasn't out on patrol right now, she was in her hanger with Archerfish and quite happy to be there too if the reports from the neighboring barracks was anything to go by. "Those two make Kongou and Goto look tame." Constellation muttered. She decided to pay a visit to the hanger, and hopefully not walk in on anything she couldn't unsee, and figure out what had caused Briggs' latest alcohol episode.

As Briggs was carted off to the Emergency Room for alcohol poisoning (for the third time this month!) Constellation paid a visit to the base's one and only hanger built specifically for Max in the wake of Seawolf's Explosion incident. Constellation put all her crew up in the tops to listen for any indication that she might be walking in at a bad time. When it was determined that all was well, she put her hand up to the door and knocked.

There was a muffled noise followed by the hanger door retracting on its hydraulic mounts and a black nose stuck out into the open to stare at her.

"Hello Max, mind if I come in?" Constellation asked.

The 737 bounced on her wheels and eagerly let her in, shoving her with her nose towards the back of the hanger. She seemed both excited and worried. Her strobes were flashing constantly and Constellation narrowed her eyes to read the morse code. _"Thank the maker you've come! After the admiral left in a hurry I was wondering if anyone would come back!" _

"Briggs is in the ER, he went through a fair bit of alcohol. Now tell me what's going on?" Constellation asked.

Max's wince was her spoilers snapping up then down again. _"Best that I show you." _

She led Constellation to the back of the hanger which was really more like a giant house with rooms for Archerfish. The section they were in currently was the garage where Max herself lived.

Max nodded to the passageway that led to Archerfish's part of the hanger. _"She's been in the head all morning." _The worried 737 told Constellation. _"I tried to get the admiral to help but you know what happened there." _

"Right, give me a minute would you?" Constellation asked and Max nodded, backing off. The sailing ship gave the plane a quick pat and went to find Archerfish.

She found the submarine alright, playing cuddles with the porcelain throne. She looked like hell, strings of hair falling into her pale face.

"What did you do last night?" Constellation asked, assuming the sub girl had overindulged. It wouldn't be the first time she'd been called in to deal with drunk shipgirl shenanigans.

"It's not what you think." Archerfish moaned.

"No?" Constellation mused. "Enlighten me."

"Ugh, help me up!" Archerfish asked.

Constellation doubted her measly sailpower could help the Balao-class to find her keel but she tried anyway. Somehow, Archerfish managed, swaying a bit as she gripped the countertop. Her radar screen must have been filled with static but somehow her fingers managed to conform around a seemingly small and insignificant pink box. Constellation's dread increased exponentially.

Archerfish pulled out a small stick with a curved handle and held it out to her, the handle first. "Read it." She ordered.

Swallowing hard and beginning to think she knew exactly why Briggs was in the ER right now she took it and read the digital display. It showed a single word. _"Positive." _

"Well, shit!" The sailing ship groaned and handed the pregnancy test back. "Does Max know?" She asked.

"No." Archerfish shook her head. "I haven't told her yet. To be honest, I don't know _how _to tell her."

"Well she's freaking out right now. Thinks your sick."

"I am sick!" Archerfish growled and all the color left her face, she dropped back down to the toilet and wretched. Constellation knelt next to her and gently pushed her hair back, supporting her shoulders.

As soon as she was done, Archerfish reached up and flushed the toilet. She shakily rose to her feet. "Help me back to the hanger please." She asked.

Constellation nodded and Archerfish draped her arm over her shoulders. Max was waiting, her engines at a high idle, every control surface tense. As soon as her radar told her Archerfish was coming she bounded over, closing the throttles so the high bypass turbofans didn't disturb either ship too much. Constellation backed off when Max used her nose to support Archerfish.

The 737 seemed confused and worried at the same time. _"What happened?" _She asked.

Archerfish put both hands on her radar dome and kissed her nose. "You're going to be a mommy sweetheart."

Max stiffened and at first she seemed confused then she sank lower on her gear and ever so gently touched the submarine's belly.

"Yes Max. Yes, I'm pregnant." Max backed up and for a second Archerfish and Constellation were worried the 737 was upset but then she literally leaped off the ground, all three sets of wheels clearing the earth by at least 6 feet and bounded for joy.

Constellation chuckled and quietly slipped out, seeing Max flash her lights continuously as she grilled Archerfish with questions. As happy as the sailing ship was for Max she and the technicians had a new problem. Forgetting the fact that Max had somehow gotten Archerfish pregnant, what would the offspring turn out to be like.

Constellation felt her sanity draining away as she thought about it. _"Poor Admiral Briggs." _She thought. The man needed a vacation. A long vacation!

She headed back to his office with every intent to find the strongest drink he had in his much beloved liquor stash. A drink sounded heavily right about now.


	8. Max on a Mission

**12263: Whoever created a porn video about all the voracious shipgirl and shipgirl/human couples then sent it to the Admiral's emails under the subject line "Your Favorite Cooking Show, A Must Watch!"... (REDACTED) is what awaits you. As is (YIKES!) and (SWEET MOTHER OF GOD!)) none of this in a fun way either!  
12263a: "But I thought Admiral's liked watching their harems at work."~ Culprit shipgirl  
12263b: "For the last time we do not have harems!"~ Admiral Briggs **

"AUGH MY EYES!" Those words alone were enough to get Wright racing into Admiral Briggs' office and what she saw was her admiral on the floor next to his desk, clutching his eyes and his mouth open in a wordless scream. Raising an eyebrow, she circled around the desk and took a look at what was displayed on his computer, then promptly pulled back with a cringe. She felt sick just looking at the paused still never mind the whole video. Sighing, she picked up the phone and heard the ding of the intercom coming to life.

_"Harder and Iku to the Admiral's office please!" _

A few minutes later the two submarines, the former thankfully a female at the moment, entered looking very nervous. "It wasn't us!" They both said.

"I know that's not why I called you here. I need you to look at something for me." Wright pulled up the video. Their reactions varied as they watched. Iku had a lecherous grin on her face that only got larger while Harder was trying to decide if she should vomit or punch the nearest face in.

"Wow!" The subthief finally said.

"I know, so good..." Iku wiped a trickle of drool off her face.

"That's just... wow..." Harder struggled to find the words.

Wright sighed. "Can I count on you two to find the culprits behind this?" She asked.

"Yes ma'am!" Harder snapped too and even Iku nodded vigorously. "As good as this is, there is a time and place for dispensing in the art of lewdness."

Wright was satisfied. The two subs could track down the culprit easily enough.

A few days later the pair returned dragging a semi-conscious Aoba between them. Wright suppressed a groan. She had a feeling. The Japanese cruiser was set down unceremoniously at the foot of Briggs' desk while said Admiral glared at her. Aoba, faced with his ferocious stare, quickly regained her senses. "I only created it for the Admiralty's comfort!"

"Why would you think we'd enjoy seeing this?" Briggs asked.

"You mean you didn't? But I thought Admirals liked watching their harems at work!" Aoba said, confused.

Briggs was fuming. "For the last time we do not have harems!" He shouted. "Now take her away!"

Once Aoba had been taken care of, Briggs turned his attention to an incoming skype call. It was Admiral Richardson. "Well we caught the culprit at least. I'll let Goto decide the punishment for Aoba."

_"Good, she needs a tough one after that stunt. I think my eyes and brain are permanently scarred after seeing that." _Richardson said.

"How did your girls take it?" Briggs asked.

_"Surprisingly well. They didn't appear to be as horrified as some of our human person... Fitz, what are you doing?!" _Richardson turned away from his screen for a moment.

"John? You okay?" Briggs had a reason to be concerned. Richardson had more than his fair share of perverts and insanity among his shipgirls. Never mind the actual ships!

_"Fitz no, don't you dare- AUGH MY EYES! AND MY BRAIN!" _The video feed cut out not long after that which was just as well. Briggs really didn't need to see Richardson's most notorious ship (not shipgirl there's a difference) couple at work.

"I am so glad I don't have to deal with that bullshit." He sighed and too late he realized what he had done.

_Medical team to hanger 4. Medical team to hanger 4!_

At that base wide announcement, Briggs groaned. His day was just getting started it seemed.

Meanwhile in hanger 4, next to a still open laptop displaying the video that was Briggs' current bane, was Max. The 737 was lying on her belly, gear folded while Archerfish worked near her tail.

"Max, honey you need a hobby!" She said as she yanked on the tip of a banana that had somehow gotten stuck up her (REDACTED). Max whimpered.

Iku, having some idea of what had happened when the announcement came, slipped into the hanger. She leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms, an amused smile on her face.

"Where did you even learn how to do this?" Archerfish muttered, then she noticed the resident pervert. "YOU!" She hissed at Iku who immediately threw up her hands.

"I'm all for teaching lewdness but even I know my students limits." Iku said.

"Then why didn't you stop her?" Archerfish asked. She gave one last yank and out came the banana. Max squealed and staggered to her wheels. "Maybe next time you'll be more careful?" Archerfish asked her as she stroked her nose. Quivering a little, Max nodded.

"If you knew her limits then why didn't you stop her?" Archerfish asked, tossing the banana in the trash and turning to Iku.

The submarine sighed as though the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. "You try stopping 100000 tons of metal and turbofan on a mission!" She cried.


End file.
